OKAY GUYS SO THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER PREPARE YOURSELF.
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Black.
Dan's P.O.V
He sounded desperate, almost in tears, and I had no other choice than to nod. I wanted to take his face in both hands and tell him it would be okay but I couldn't. I could only nod and do the next best thing.
Write.
Until my hand cramps and my tears transform the blue ink into flowing rivers on my page. Each meeting the others and running off the sheet in my words' desperate attempt to escape what I have written. Escape the travesty of Phil's wide eyes and stained cheeks. Escape this world I have created from ink and timber, carving their way through the earth, dissolving the paper.
Write.
Until my chest hurts and my heart beats as fast as it does when I am with him, when he places his hand on my neck and kisses me, when his smile softens and reaches his eyes. Chest hurting with the pain I feel with my head on his. His stammering heart beat and heavy breathing. How he holds his breath in anticipation of something I'm unaware of. The purple tinge it brings to the corners of his mouth.
Write.
Until the colours in the sky blend to create a melancholic blue, spattered with the dimly glowing light of dead stars and the magic of midnight. Wrists moving on sweeping motions to paint the mess of colour into life and play a game of connect the dots, drawing links between the stars, writing constellations into our skin with black pen.
Write.
Until I turn white.
Phil's P.O.V
Sitting behind a locked door I recall the paper sitting in my jacket pocket. The one Dan gave me. The one I wasn't allowed to read until he was gone.
Well now he's gone, or I am, I can't decide just yet.
I stare at the slightly crumpled paper in my right hand, studying his messy handwriting telling me not to open this. Words unshielded by his magical veil of complexity and self-doubt. I almost don't want to open the paper, it's almost like he is still sitting beside me with his head on my chest. Lazily running his fingers over my skin sending my already frantic heart into a panicked frenzy.
Deciding against my subconscious I slowly open the carefully folded paper and first see the eye he drew. Mine. The blue missing.
Loneliness.
I don't know how I know but I do. Blue is loneliness. But he left the gold. With nothing to cling to the dappled gold floats, anchored only to the pupil. Black.
And then I flick the last fold open and another piece of paper falls from within the first. Familiar chaos greeting me from within the page. The same writing that I have pinned to the wall behind my curtain. And suddenly the strain lessens in my chest and a soft wave of comfort washes through my room from my open window.
Everything will be okay, I promise.
There is a hard road between not being scared of anything and being scared of nothing
Nothing is more terrifying than anything
But defying your fears cannot bring justice
As well as denying your tears cannot bring mercy
Nothing will be here forever
So we must carry acceptance on our lips
Our pride on our hips
Take our hearts from our ribs because they do not deserve to be caged in a way that we cannot seal fear with a kiss
Cupid shot his arrows but missed
And instead they kissed the hearts of contortionists made to bend rules like fingers to fists
Writing sins on our wish lists they write theirs on their wrists and dare tell us that we cannot feel happiness
Instead their faces fade like dust and their words like mist
Arrow wounds on their hearts are aimless
Fuck you Dan, how could you do this? I didn't want to fall in love.
How could you do this to me?
How could you do this to yourself?
How could I do this to you...
Dan's P.O.V
Phil never came back to school.
For the first three days I went on with my day, I went to history Monday and still sat in my chair, I sat beneath the tree by the oval at lunch, I walked home.
But by Thursday I was worried.
I was scared, I was nervous, I was confused.
I never got his number.
The days slipped by and not a trace of him emerged from the mist. It was almost as if he never existed, and as far as I know he may not have. The only evidence of his existence being the lightly stained maroon left on my shirt and his empty seat in the back of the room.
After 2 weeks I sat there. Not wanting the reminder of every touch we shared but still craving the memory of... him.
I went back to the park each day after school and lay down beneath the trees with the sun on my face, right where we lay. But this time I lay on my own, without his chest beneath my head and without his hand in mine. Feeling his absence in my chest.
But one day, exactly 4 weeks and 2 days after Phil's disappearance there was a letter laying up against the tree I sat by. Perfectly placed and meant for me, I very carefully unstuck it and let the contents fall out. There in my hand, were two pieces of paper. One folded and the other containing only the words
Colour us in
Fingertips dripping with curiosity I unfolded the slightly more card-like piece of paper to reveal a picture drawn in ink and littered with charcoaled fingerprints.
Two boys with wings, one broken, the others breaking, our features drawn immaculately. The floor seems to have fallen out from beneath us and my rapidly breaking wings and out grip on each other's hand the only thing holding us both up. Phil's expression pained and his wings crumbling to ash.
I stuck it in my book of first pages along side the poem I wrote that he never saw. The beginning of pur story and the beginning of mine
Colour us in.
Regardless of the maroon littering our bodies like hickies or dried blood you are black and I am white. Because despite the fact that you might be gone and there is an absence of colour lingering over your unoccupied body. You are everything to me, and I am nothing without you.
And that was all he wrote.
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All He Wrote // Phan AU
Fanfiction"Some people are grey. And some are white. And some have small hints of purple or yellow or red. I am white. With a little dash of light blue." Synaesthesia is a pretty powerful thing, and for Dan? Well it pretty much rules over his life. He sees p...
